I huddled in my spot, a scrap of cardboard beside the dumpster. The cardboard had made a nice box once. It didn’t take long for it to fall apart. Just another thing I’ve ruined. It seems everything I touch turns to trash. So don’t touch me. You might too.
I contemplated the fire escape. A climb to the roof. A jump. A few seconds later— splat. Escape of a different kind. That’s why I had my head up in the air.
When the little fellow floated down on his carpet, I came close to tossing my bottle. Instead, I shook my head, and took another sip. I tried to blink him away.
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Something I churned out today. All I got so far. Cliche?
[This message has been edited by ChrisOwens (edited May 19, 2005).]
Oooh, no, I just noticed the title. I don't care for leprechauns, especially outside their native environment -- I'd suggest you make up your own new kind of halfling!
I say, keep going with it.
It doesn't quite sound right. This story is going to involve a leprechaun as a major element. So your bum has to be really convincing. And, just to me, he wasn't.